


We'll Find Each Other In The Dark

by TGP



Series: Eyesight [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken Kids, Ensemble - Freeform, F/M, Genderqueer!Harry, HP/GW is past, Post Battle of Hogwarts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGP/pseuds/TGP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Draco find some measure of solice in one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Find Each Other In The Dark

Harry wakes up. He lays in bed a moment, staring up at the familiar stone ceiling of the hospital wing. The bed is soft under him, cotton sheets gentle on his strangely electrified skin. He isn't wearing his glasses, but he doesn't move to put them on yet. Instead, he just breathes slow and easy and tries to remember why it’s so important that he can.

Oh.

It's because he was dead for a little while.

He's a little surprised how little he feels about that right now. He's kind of numb. His body hurts, sore from exhaustion and spell damage, and he's so very tired, but he's not really _feeling_ anything. It's far away, just like the spectres of his family, of his mentor. Dumbledore's voice had been so very gentle, gentler than it had in life.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry rolls his eyes over to blink at the messy blob of colors. He recognizes the voice even before his glasses are pressed into his hand to put on. Harry doesn't sit up (his chest is so sore under the bandages) but McGonagall doesn't seem to expect him to.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, clipped and quiet. She's tired, too.

"Fine."

She gives him a sharper look. "You most certainly are not."

It makes him smile and he's not really sure why. It makes her look even more upset, the skin around her eyes tight and brows furrowed.

"What day is it?" he asks. She tells him and he nods a little and then decides he should really not move more than he has to. He never realized just how many muscle groups were attached to his chest. He closes his eyes a moment and when he opens them, McGonagall is gone. The air is cool and smells of peppermint and antiseptic cream.

Madam Pomfrey fusses over him, checking his vitals and changing the bandages on his chest. She’s the only one who didn’t make any noise the day she found out about his body. He remembers that now in the way she calls him “Mr. Potter” and is still careful not to wrap the bandages too tight over his sore breasts, and he loves her a little. She makes him lie down again and drink some potions and Harry closes his eyes again.

It’s dark a second later. For a few moments, he’s confused why Pomfrey’s turned off the lamps and covered the windows, but then he realizes it’s night. He must have slept but he doesn’t remember dreaming. He’s... If he weren’t so tired, maybe he’d panic about that.

Past the curtain around his bed, he can just barely see a darker spot moving. Someone’s there, close. Harry gets up as quietly as he can but his whole body is so very sore that he can't help the huff of pain through his clenched teeth. The room goes quiet and then his curtain is tugged back quickly. Draco Malfoy stares at him. He looks paler in the moonlight, white and silver and not quite alive-

Draco jerks and Harry realizes it's because he grabbed Draco's wrist. His fingers are pressed to the underside, shaking as he takes in the steady, strong heartbeat. Harry lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He lets go and after a few still, tense moments, Draco draws back his hand. He's looking at Harry like he doesn't know him, like they're strangers, and Harry doesn't see any sign of a head injury, but-

"Potter," Draco murmurs, his voice so very soft, almost soundless, but all at once Harry relaxes.

"Why am I not surprise you survived all this with only a couple scrapes?" he says, finding himself grinning despite how long they've spent hating each other. It's just... It seems so silly to hold onto that now. Voldemort is dead, the Death Eaters are defeated, and things are going to be good now. Their arguments seem so petty. Meaningless. (Most everything does.)

"I could say the same thing," Draco drawls out, eyes going half lidded and bored. And Harry might have believed that at any other time, but not tonight. Not right now. Not when Draco is as battered as him, as rattled, as worn. Harry tips his head up as Draco steps nearer, their knees nearly touching. He is so _tall_ , Harry realizes. Not nearly as tall as Ron, but a head higher than himself. He's tall and delicate, even with those broad shoulders of his, and when did Draco stop being a weak little shrimp, exactly? When did he grow up?

Draco is still staring at him with an intensity Harry doesn't understand and hasn't been put under before. Not like this. He’s leaned over Harry in a way that should be ominous but isn’t because there’s no amount of threat in Draco right now, not even a little.

"I'm-" Draco stops, swallows, parts his lips like he's going to start again but doesn't. He is a line of tension, of _intention,_ and there is so much that Harry is missing here. "Potter. You..."

"What?" He doesn't know why he's suddenly breathless but there is a palpable tension growing between them, harsh and expectant.

Draco's hand makes the bed sink a little when he leans his weight on it but Harry pays it no mind. His attention is solely on the lips pressed to his own. And even though he's never really thought about this before, even though it's not something he should allow, in the quiet darkness he decides it's okay.

It's not like kissing Ginny. Her lips were softer and they spent just as much time laughing and joking as they did kissing and her hands were always everywhere. Draco is... restrained. He is careful not to touch Harry past their mouths, holding himself stiffly back even as he slips his tongue between Harry's lips and demands more. Harry keeps his hands curled tight on the edge of the bed until Draco finally draws back. The light is too low to tell if he's blushing but Draco's lips are dark and wet, and his eyes...

There is something so very needful in Draco’s eyes, hurting and unsure and _dying_.

Harry reaches for him and Draco doesn't fight being drawn back in. He lets out a soft sound into Harry's mouth as Harry's fingers slide into his hair and cradle his head. And then he's sinking to his knees between Harry's own and Harry kisses him as Draco's arms slid around his waist even though bending like this makes his chest ache fiercely. It's like Draco will break if he lets go of him and no matter their history, he can't let that happen. Even when Draco drops his head to bury it against his shoulder, Harry holds onto him with all his might.

It's in that moment that Harry realizes Draco's world is shattered. Draco is not the only Slytherin to turn away from the Dark Lord, but he is the only one that remained on the grounds to fight and he had started on the other side. His family honor is publically stained and brutalized, father likely to die within Azkaban's walls for consorting unless Draco or his mother can petition his release. He won't be the only pureblood to suffer the ramifications of the end of the war, nor the only Death Eater's son, but he is the only one Harry cares about right now, despite all that _he_ has lost, too.

They don't speak. Harry guides Draco up onto the bed with him and they spend a while holding one another, running their hands over each other, like they just have to make sure they're both still alive. And then Draco's kissing him again and Harry doesn't mind it, doesn't stop it. He flinches as one of Draco's hands runs down his chest, over the bandages, but Draco softens his touch and brushes his lips to the corner of Harry's mouth as an apology, and then runs his fingers along the curve of Harry's waist and hip. His fingers nudge under the edge of Harry's shirt to the skin under.

"Potter?" he asks to confirm, hushed and harsher for it, but Harry only nods as a familiar sort of anticipation sinks into him. Draco's hand slides up along his belly, cool against his warmer skin, and then traces the swell of Harry's chest, careful over the bandages. There isn't much there; Harry's never had the body fat to develop much and his athletics means he’s got more muscle than most girls their age, but Draco doesn't seem to care. His lips trail over Harry's neck as he continues to touch feather light and it's... It's so weird and Harry's stomach keeps going tense with knots of wavering tension. He doesn't know why it feels like this, how Draco Malfoy of all people could make him feel so very _fragile_ , or how he could ever let him do it.

Draco eases off his chest and instead slides downward over his belly. It makes his toes curl a little, the muscles of his stomach clenching under Draco’s too soft touch, and then Draco firms it and that’s better. His fingertips brush the brunched edge of Harry’s pajama pants.

Harry knows he should warn him because no one ever notices and things are so delicate between them right now that he doesn't want to break it, but when Draco's hand dips under the front of his pants, Draco isn't shocked at all. His fingers trace over Harry's flesh through his underwear, so light and teasing that it has him shivering in seconds. Harry presses his own hand over it, wanting something far more direct, firmer, and Draco lifts his head a little. His eyes shine with reflected light, brittle and hurt and overwhelmingly _thankful_. Harry doesn't know what to think of it, but Draco doesn't give him time as he bypasses the thin cloth to run his fingertips along the damp folds of Harry’s sex.

" _Draco_ ," he manages breathlessly and Draco cuts him off, captures whatever Harry might say in his mouth. He's not as knowing as Ginny in the ways to touch but he makes up for it in how fast he catches on to the ways to make Harry shiver and groan. Harry tries to touch him back but Draco slaps his hands away so he just settles for curling them around Draco's shoulders, sliding them into his hair, holding on.

The pace is slow and unhurried as Draco touches him, kisses him, guides him into a lazy orgasm that leaves him boneless and sleepy. Their bodies seem to mold against each other in the afterglow, except for a hard point of tension along Harry’s thigh. Draco’s hard and ignoring it and just twists away when Harry tries to touch him again.

"Why?" Harry asks because it almost hurts that Draco won’t let him return the favor. Draco shrugs a shoulder inelegantly as he sits up. A soft spell cleans them both up and he helps Harry right his clothing.

"If I wanted to sleep with you, I'd have done it before now." The mocking tilt is back in his voice, but it's still... fragile. Still brittle.

"Really now," Harry murmurs with tired amusement. "You're that sure of yourself."

"Women fall before my feet daily, Potter. You are not the exception to that rule, _obviously._ "

That stings in a way Harry doesn’t really understand. He swallows thickly. He didn't... He hadn't been ready for that, all his armor gone in the face of how gently Draco had touched him. He feels suddenly tawdry and common in a way he's never really experienced before. Draco seems to notice. He opens his mouth and then closes it and looks away. He sits at the edge of the bed with his hands on his knees and then shakes his head.

"I'm leaving with Mother in the morning," he says instead. "There's an entire government to settle back into place. I might as well... _weasel_ my way into a position of power."

Harry's nerves settle a little and he manages a small smile. That's probably as much of an apology as he's going to get. It's enough. Draco glances at him but doesn't say anything more.

Harry settles back against the bed and catches Draco’s wrist, fingers pressed against his pulse. He stays sitting there until Harry's slipped off into sleep and when he wakes, Draco's already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to work on this story (and others) while I'm at work and post bits of it on http://tgp-the-loser.livejournal.com/ if anyone is interested in watching the story grow before it gets posted. Or just wants to ask questions or prompt anything. :)


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